


Double Reflection

by Ugawa



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drugs, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Prostitution, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 21:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11540628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ugawa/pseuds/Ugawa
Summary: Gaara knows how hard it is to survive, he sees it daily. But amongst the drugs, despair and self-destruction he finds a flickering light of hope. A best friend, a blond idiot, reaching to pull him from the darkness before he shatters into a million pieces and suffocates within his void.Living in the slums of London, Gaara knows how hard surviving can be, but when he discovers selling his body can make good money, his life becomes a downward spiral of self-destruction. Naruto is his only hope of salvation, but eventually watching his friend rot away becomes too much, even for him.(WARNING: Yaoi/Drug consumption/Violence/Hints of past incestuous molestation: WARNING)[This fic is about prostitution and the emotional and physical toll it takes on people. This fic was not created with the sole purpose of having lots of ungracious, unnecessary sex. This is an edgy topic and not suitable for everyone, but for those of you who stay with me until the end, I promise you an ending that can be perceived as a happy one.]~*~Alternative-Universe~*~ Characters are mildly OOC, since they have not been brought up in the physcologically damaging ninja world.





	1. In Life There's No Going Back

**Author's Note:**

> Set in London.
> 
> ~*~Alternative-Universe~*~ Characters are mildly OOC, since they have not been brought up in the physcologically damaging ninja world.
> 
> -I wrote this almost 8 years ago. So the voice is going to be completely different to my current work 'I Don't Enjoy to Watch You Crumble'-
> 
> \/\/\/\/\WARNING:WARNING/\/\/\/\/
> 
> This fic is about prostitution and the emotional and physical toll it takes on people. This fic was not created with the sole purpose of having lots of ungracious, unnecessary sex, so if that's what you were hoping for, then you're probably better looking elsewhere. This is an edgy topic and not suitable for everyone, but for those of you who stay with me until the end, I promise you an ending that can be perceived as a happy one.

In life there's no going back

"In life there's no going back," that's what Mum used to say before the accident. Before the morning I opened the door to men in uniform, holding flat hats and asking to speak to 'daddy' with over-practiced sadness showing on their faces.

The road lays straight ahead, you can't turn along the track to seek out what has passed. You can't undo mistakes - even wishing to do so is in vain. But in between all this, don't forget that you can always try again.

She hadn't lived long enough to explain how hard trying again sometimes can be. And maybe if she'd still been around none of this mess would've happened. It's funny, really, how differently I'd pictured my life. I wanted to be a fireman when I was younger - the blinding red always caught my attention as the engines zoomed past. I still remember clutching that toy fire truck to my chest as the uniformed men strolled by me to meet with my father in the kitchen. Even at five, I could sense something was wrong with the situation.

Even then, with shinny tears forming in the rims of my eyes, I knew mummy wasn't coming home.

 

"Ga-" 

"-ara"

I'd like to say this was the beginning of some erotic dream where the love of my life leaned above me as I lay in the sand on the stony beach of Clacton. I could almost hear the screams and laughs of the kids on the pier, the bumping cars of the dodgems. That reminded me, I hadn't been to the beach in almost a year, but last time I ventured to the great sandpit, I'd been pinched by some bloody crab (which I swore was on steroids), and stung by a jelly-fish which, by rights, shouldn't have even been in the sea around Clacton since the coast is WAY too cold, even in summer.

"Gaara"

Naruto's fault. Throwing me into the freezing water, while chanting that it was the only way to get over my 'fear' of all things cold, didn't go as he'd planned. We went home early that day. Bunked the train back to London and legged it through the gates, hopping over the security barriers to escape the ticket men trying to bust us. I couldn't afford a thousand pound fine for being stupid and not paying the fifteen quid for a return ticket. The smart thing to do would've been to spend on transport for the day and not fork out my last fiver for a pouch of Golden V. Only being sixteen, I couldn't buy it myself, so Naruto - always being the older looking one of the two of us - would waltz in, shoulders back while looking like a confident eighteen-year-old, and purchase it no problem.

"Gaara"

I missed summer.

Slam.

Shakespeare's biography landed inches from my nose and my head shot from the desk to meet our English teacher's eyes. There was only one thing to do when falling asleep in class - grin sheepishly and hope whatever teacher stood in front of you had had a good day and wasn't on the warpath for student blood.

He didn't look impressed. My grin faltered and I cleared my throat while straightening myself in the uncomfortable, plastic chair.

"Sorry to disturb your afternoon nap, Mr. Sabaku, but your snoring is disrupting my class." Mr. Kabuto touched the side of his glasses, lifting them to peer at me. "Perhaps you'd like to read out your work?" No question - a demand.

He could see my book was blank. I hadn't gotten further than jotting down the date before deciding to close my eyes for a few seconds. I stole a quick glimpse at the clock above the whiteboard. 3:00. I'd managed to sleep the whole lesson away, not a bad achievement, but I resisted the urge to pat myself on the back.

Mr. Kabuto turned to move back to the front of the room, just in time for the bell to free us from school. Collecting my things and rushing to the door before a detention fogged my future was top priority, but then again, it being Friday, I doubted he'd want to suffer the company of a sleepy student for longer than necessary.

Good thing I was right for once.

I slowed my pace once in the crowded corridor and stopped to wait for blondie-locks and the three chest hairs (which he was overly proud of). I myself couldn't see the fascination and didn't understand why he almost cried when I plucked one with a pair of tweezers when he wasn't paying attention.

"You were really going for it today," Naruto said when he caught up. "Thought you'd swallowed a pig."

"At least I don't dribble like an old man." I really had to work on my comebacks, but my usual 'fuck you' was getting old. I needed new material.

"Don't hate me 'cause I'm perfect, mate."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The security gates flashed red as a student ahead of us passed through, and the two police officers at the exit doors pulled the kid to the side to pat him down for weapons. Aw, beautiful London, a place of hopes, dreams, and police at every school. The crime rate in the area was down by two percent this year, which was pretty good considering that three students had been rushed to hospital with stab wounds this term. And an astounding record of no guns found on the premises for almost five years made our school the safest around. Pretty laughable, really.

"You coming tonight?" Naruto asked as he unzipped his bag for the police to check and placed his metal rings on the tray to be passed safely. He walked through the barrier and the light above remained blue.

I did the same and managed to leave the building unsearched. I no longer wore my cross necklace to school anymore, it was metal, and forgetting to take it off always resulted in an embarrassing pat down. After the tenth time of getting pulled to the side, I decided wearing it just wasn't worth the hassle.

I shook my head while digging through my bag. "I told you earlier that I'm working tonight."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot you'd rather be scrubbing down houses than be out getting smashed with everyone else."

I pulled the green packet out my bag and folded over a rizla to begin making a rollie. "I can't cancel, he's my dad's workmate." I sparked and took a toke. "Besides, I need the money if I want to go on the trip to Paris at the end of the year." I shoved him, knowing what he was about to say. "And I'm not taking your money, either. I can pay for myself. I owe you almost a hundred already."

"I've told you before that I don't care. My granddad transfers five-hundred into my account each month, why can't you just smile and take it like any other normal person would?"

"Because that money is supposed to go toward educational purposes and saving for university."

"Ever heard of a student loan?" He nicked the rollie from between my fingers just as I was about to take another toke. "Besides," he said, blowing out smoke. "If I get into the university of London, I'll live at home, meaning the cost won't be as high." He held the white stick out.

"Finish it, I don't want your germs."

"Why not, I don't mind your indirect kisses." He puckered his lips and actually had the audacity to look bewildered when I swung at his face. He laughed and shrugged the attempted assault off. "Whatever. Keep your mobile on this weekend, would ya? Do you know how annoying it is having to walk a mile to your house just to see if your coming out?"

"Fine."

"Catch you later."

"Later."

Naruto and I lived in completely different parts of London. His mansion-like house was closer to the centre, meaning clean streets, low crime rates and a decent social network. Whereas I was stuck in the slums. A three bedroom flat above a fish-n-chip shop. I couldn't even go out at night without risking my life. I didn't think getting shot or stabbed by a mugger was a great way to go, so I genuinely stayed in after dark.

"Hello?" I didn't know why I bothered calling out. Kankuro was usually out getting stoned with his timewaster friends and Temari and Dad were always at work until five. I dumped my bag underneath the coat rack and kicked my shoes and socks off to walk barefooted across the old, worn carpet. Loosening my school tie and unbuttoning my shirt was the highlight of most days. Pretty sad, really. I rarely had money, and I always felt uncomfortable around Naruto's friends, so I didn't tend to go out much. Don't get me wrong, his mates were okay, but I didn't really fit into their rich-kid culture and couldn't join in with most of their conversations.

I sat in front of the small TV set after banging it a few times to get it working. The smell of greasy chips floated through the closed windows, making my belly rumble. Mr. Iruka, the owner, usually gave me a free bag when he saw me, but if I carried on eating that grease-infested food, I'd be twenty-stone by the time I left home. So I resorted to a ham and cheese sandwich to fill my aching gut before getting changed from my uniform into an old pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a T-shirt.

Baki was always pissed if I took too long getting ready when he arrived to pick me up, so I made sure to be out the door as soon as he honked his horn. By the time he arrived, dropping my dad off at the same time, it was half-five and the sun was beginning to set. The days had been getting shorter since winter was on its way.

"Don't be back too late," Dad said as he passed without a second look. He always went to bed after getting home from work. No, that's a lie. He always went to bed after getting home and having a couple of beers to numb the depression of working a twelve-hour shift, living in a dirty, smelly flat and losing his wife. He hadn't been the same since Mum died, but at least he hadn't left us to fend for ourselves like so many parents did. Overall he was doing the best he could. But isn't that what all of us do? Just keep ploughing through, hoping that one day a miracle will happen and we'll all be happy again?

I slammed the door to Baki's car behind me and suffered the painfully silent drive that always occurred Friday evenings. The tanned man lived alone. Never married and never had any children, so like many others, he just managed to keep his head above water and not drown in the deep end of giving up.

He was a nice man, never really spoke much, and paid me to keep his apartment clean. He rubbed at the purple bags under his eyes when he parked up outside a block of council apartments. He handed me a set of keys. "Go get started, I'll be back in a few hours."

I peered at the keys. "Uh… Sure."  
I wasn't going to complain. Having someone scrutinize your every move when you're trying clean can be very distracting. Usually he'd sit in the same room, watching me work, obviously making sure I wasn't trying my hand at stealing any of his possessions - not that he had much to steal.

I watched his ford escort turn the corner before climbing the three floors of stairs. I dropped my eyes to the floor when passing a group of older teens in hoodies, they were dealing, and I didn't want any trouble. Even making eye contact could've left me held against a wall, being threatened to keep my mouth shut. Not looking was a silent agreement - I saw nothing.

Baki's apartment was in the same state as every Friday. Pizza boxes lay around, unfinished food rotting on the surfaces, clothes strewn around the place. I shook my head. When I got my own place, I'd never leave it in this condition, whether I lived alone or not.

I made myself useful. Perhaps if I finished before he came home, I'd even get a tip. Twenty quid for cleaning this mess was definitely slave labour, but it's not like I had any better offers. I slipped into thick gloves and got to work on the surfaces, scrubbing dried stains and spraying disinfectant before pulling out a black bin bag to throw rubbish away.

After two hours, I perched myself on the arm of his sofa to wipe my brow. I hadn't even noticed the sweat piling on my skin. I pulled a cigarette out a packet I found under a pizza box and flipped open my mobile. A text from Naruto.

THINK YOU'LL BE FINISHED IN TIME TO COME TO THE PARTY LATER? PEOPLE ARE ASKING AFTER YOU.

I knew the last part was a lie, but his effort made me smile. I'd almost finished my manual labour for the week, but I didn't fancy hanging around with a bunch of drunk teens. I wasn't some snob, far from it, but I was tired, and bed was the only place I'd be going when Baki came back to drop me home.

Thinking of which, where was he?

I switched his radio on in the kitchen and went back to scrubbing at a disobedient stain on the floor between his oven and cupboard. I sprayed some bleach and jumped when a set of keys landed on the work surface behind me. I twisted my head and saw Baki pulling his jacket off.

"Almost finished," I said.

He pulled out a chair at the table. "That's okay, take your time." Yeah, like I wanted to be here longer than necessary. I was killing myself for a twenty. No thank you, I'd finish as soon as possible. "Have you been smoking in here?"

Busted.

I moved to sit against the cupboard and grinned sheepishly. I seemed to do that a lot when getting in trouble. It worked sometimes.

"Here." He dug through his pocket and chucked me a pre-rolled rollie twisted at the end.

I caught it. "Thanks." And sparked it, trying to ignore his eyes. He Didn't even blink as he watched me. I cleared my throat. "There's a few bags outside," I said, trying to think of something to say so I didn't have to sit in silence.

"I saw." Of course he did. Stupid.

I stared at the stick between my fingers. This wasn't just tobacco. I cleared my throat again before kneeling on the floor to pass it back. "Thanks, but I don't smoke weed."

He shrugged. "That's unusual." I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He wasn't drunk, but he'd obviously had a few beers. "A boy of your age not taking drugs, I mean," he said, confusing my scrunched nose for ignorance. "That's good. This stuff can screw you up if you get hooked. Just look at the other teenagers living in this place." He laughed. "They're not the most educated of people. You get good grades?"

The sweet smell filled the kitchen as the smoke drifted around the light bulb in the ceiling. I watched it twirl and dance in the light. "I do okay."

He nodded. "I should get you back."

I wanted to ask if he was good to drive, but I didn't want to walk home alone in the dark. So I just agreed and followed him out the apartment block and to his car. The blue escort was in its usual place, but anyone from a mile away could see it hadn't been parked by a sober person. The wheels were well over the lines, making me wonder if walking home  
wasn't such a bad idea.

But I got in and strapped on the belt. Baki started the engine, and I stared out the side window at passing streetlamps. The lights lit the car momentarily before plunging it back into darkness. We swerved slightly. Baki's brow glistened in the dim light and he cleared his throat before lifting his foot off the peddle somewhat to slow us down.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He turned the wheel right. Home was left. "You've taken the wrong turn." Maybe he'd had more to drink than I'd thought. He couldn't even remember where he was going. "Baki?" When he didn't reply, interior alarm bells rang, but I tried to ignore them. He was just concentrating too hard on the road, that was all. "Baki?" Perhaps he knew a shortcut. "You were supposed to go left back there." I twisted in my seat to look out the back window. The heat in the car had steamed it up.

"We're just going to stop here for a minute." His voice in the calm startled me, but I laughed it off nervously.

"What's wrong?"

"I just need to check the wheels." He left the car.

I peered at the boarded windows in the apartment complex and rubbed at my arms. Goose-pimples were forming, but I knew it wasn't from the chilly air blowing in from the open door. This place gave me the creeps. I kept expecting someone to jump in and steal the car with me in it while Baki was outside.

"Hey, is… everything okay out there?" I called before licking my lips.

He kicked the back wheel before getting in. The goose-pimples were still there, even with the door firmly shut. He placed his hands on the wheel, curling his fingers around the black, rubbery material.

I was not getting crept out. "We good to go?" Naruto would laugh his arse off when I told him about this tomorrow. "You're such a paranoid wuss," he'd say.

"Baki?" I had to reconsider working for this guy, he was a nut.

When his hand moved, I thought he was going for the hand-break, but it went farther. Passed the break and gear stick. "Wah-" He moved his hand off my knee when I made a noise, but lifted a leaver on the side of my chair, making the backrest fall, bringing me with it.

It crashed against the seat behind. My head slammed against the headrest. He was atop me.

"The fuck- Get off!" I pushed his chest, but even if I were strong enough to take on the grown man, he had the glove compartment keeping him stable.

He wasn't going anywhere… neither was I.

Fingers pinched at my skin and lips nibbled on my neck. Hands circled my wrists, pinning my arms against my chest. I kicked my legs in the small room available. "I-I'll scream!" Not manly, but neither was having a dude molesting you.

My heart thumped against my pinned arms. And as quickly as it started, it stopped.

The older man was back in his own seat, head on the steering wheel. I caught my breath and leaned up.

Why wasn't I running? Why the fuck hadn't I opened the door and got out quick enough to collapsed on the floor from the effort?

I didn't know. He just looked so pitiful. And I was still shaken up. I didn't even think I knew how to get home from here.

The silence must've lasted ten seconds, but it felt like an hour.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

What had he expected me to say to that? 'Yeah, that's fine. But could you try not to do it again?' There was nothing I could say, so I didn't say anything. Just sat, trying to figure out what'd happened.

"I'll take you home."

I still couldn't speak, so just nodded and pulled the leaver on the chair to bring the backrest up. I didn't look at him again until we were parked outside my home. The lights were on in the living room.

He'd gotten off so quickly when I'd threatened to scream… maybe he didn't think it was forced? Was I giving him the wrong signals? Did I do something to make him think I wanted it, too?

I must've done.

It was my own fault.

Baki reached for his pocket, but he stopped when he saw me flinch. "I'm just getting the money," he practically whispered. I nodded and sat still as he pulled out his wallet. "Here."  
He handed me a few notes, and I took it without counting. I just wanted to get out.

I unlocked the side door leading up to the apartment without looking back.

Temari was alone in the living room when I entered. "How was work?" she asked, not moving her eyes from the TV set. Which was a good thing, she would've noticed something was wrong otherwise… she usually did.

"Fine." She didn't hear my shaky voice with the one word, and I left before she could look at me. I flicked the switch in my room and leaned my back against the door. I was safe in here.

What an afternoon. Cleaned for two hours and had Baki try it on with me, and for what? Twenty measly quid. I uncurled my fingers from the notes.

There had to be a mistake.

I'd thought they were fives. I flicked through them, counting faster as the amount raised with each note.

Two-hundred quid.

I felt my jaw drop. I'd never even seen this much money before. I counted it three more times to make sure my mind wasn't still spazzing out from earlier. Definitely two-hundred.

I shook my head, chuckling softly. No fucking way! Two-hundred quid.

But why?


	2. All Control is Damage Control

When I was younger, 'Mummy' took me to a place where men flew through ceilings on poles and drove big, red trucks. We were visiting with other children from the nursery, but no one else got to wear the big, yellow hat. The fireman showing us around placed it over my head and patted it down - everything went dark until I lifted it slightly to see. 'Mummy' bought me a little fire engine, and we even got to sit in a real one. Adrenaline rushed through my tiny body as I kicked my legs over the seat while staring out the window. It was new and exciting.

I felt the same sort of rush now. Half walking, half running to Naruto's house on this autumn Saturday morning. No trees in the city with leaves turning brown, just the stampede of men in suits chatting on mobiles while rushing to work. I'd been to his house many times before, but I never failed to feel intimidated by the clean buildings and offices so tall they blocked the sun. I didn't belong in this area. I didn't have the latest designer gear or practiced snobbery that came with the territory.

I climbed the few steps to Naruto's freshly polished front door, and just before I buzzed, the lock clicked from inside and an older version of my blond friend greeted me.

"Good morning, Gaara." Naruto's father, Mr Namikaze, hopped down the steps, trying to slip into his black Russian Calf shoes. His briefcase tucked under his arm as he held a piece of half eaten toast.

"Minato, are you even listening to me?" Kushina, Naruto's red-headed mother, screamed from within the house. "Get back here this instant."

"Gotta go." Minato took off down the street, clutching his suitcase, just in time to miss his wife at the door.

Kushina sighed. "That bloody man. All I wanted to know was whether he would be home for tea." She sidestepped to let me in. "When you get married, Gaara, respect your wife enough to let her know what time you're coming home from work." She picked up a few jackets that Minato must've knocked over in his rush out the door. "The great lump is still in bed. He didn't get home until the early hours… I don't know," she mumbled, heading for the kitchen. "The men in this place are impossible."

Unlike my home, Naruto's had a second floor. I passed the large family photo at the top of the stairs. A fourteen-year-old boy sat between his parents. It was… nice. Sentimental. The most sentimental thing in my house was the cross necklace I inherited when Mum passed, but that could be subjective.

I didn't knock, there'd be no point, Naruto could sleep through World War Three.

And there he was, spread out with sheets twisting around his naked chest. He looked peaceful now, but that was about to change, depending on how much he'd drank the night   
before. I kicked my shoes off and sat at the edge of his queen-sized bed. The thing was almost as big as my room alone. I crawled over the mattress to reach his body and shake his arm. The two limbs had tripled in size since we first met at twelve.

He swiped a hand in my direction, rolling onto his back and twitching his nose. He scratched at his abs and fell still.

"Oi, Naruto." I shoved his arm, but only accomplished shaking his body slightly. "Wake up." I slapped his cheek a few times. Not hard, but hard enough to get a response. He groaned when I stretched the skin. "Narut-oaw." He grabbed my arm and pulled, flipping me over his body until I was beneath him. The thumping pulse from the night before came back, making my chest tremble and eyes grow.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, tilting his head.

I swallowed, shoved his shoulder until he sat up and kicked him off the edge of the bed. "You stink of beer."

His head popped up. "Well, good morning to you, too." He grunted. "Remind me to come to your room and kick you outa bed next time." He flopped back on his duvet and lifted the alarm beside his pillow. "What're you doing here this early, anyway?"

"You don't have a hangover?"

"I'm too young to get hangovers."

"That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever… what're you doing later?"

He leaned his elbow on the pillow and head in his hand as he twisted his finger in his bellybutton. "I'm going shopping with Sasuke and Shikamaru."

"Can I come?"

He stopped twisting his finger. "Sure, you could come, but I think we're going to Oxford Street. I'd have asked you but you always say that 'Oxford Street is full of pompous buffoons trying to gain popularity by spending stupid amounts of money'."

I snorted. "I've never said that."

"You just said it last week." That was before I had the chance to be one.

"Yeah? Well… You need to stop living in the past."

"Whatever, mate." He sat up, stretching, and slid from the bed to find a towel. He pulled out his favourite, fluffy orange one with a ninja frog on the front, and placed it around his   
shoulders. "You need some money?"

"I have money." That felt good to say. "I've been saving for some new clothes," I said when he raised a brow.

He stepped into his en-suite. "Wanna come scrub my back?"

"Pass." Naruto's bed was so comfortable, I couldn't resist stretching out and laying in the middle while Blondie-locks scrubbed his teeth.

"There's room in here for two," he called with the toothbrush still in his mouth.

"Not with your fat arse there isn't."

I heard him spit and rinse his mouth before his head popped around the doorframe. "I'm sure you could squeeze in. We'd just have to be close."

"Hurry up and take a shower." I sniffed the air. "Actually, take your time. I'll be downstairs."

The sweet smell of pancakes strengthened as I left Naruto's room. His mum was cooking breakfast. I loved Kushina's cooking, although, anything was better than ham and cheese sandwiches or chips every day. But nothing could beat pancakes in the morning. If I was lucky, I might be able to eat Naruto's breakfast before he finished showering. I'd sneak in the kitchen, flatter his mum with compliments until she realized I'd be a better son than Naruto and give me his pancakes. I grinned. It was genius.

The table was set and Kushina was washing plates when I entered the kitchen.

"Is he up yet?" she asked.

"Just taking a shower." I licked my lips, contemplating my next move. How to compliment a woman without being overly corny or creepy? Hmm… compliments weren't my strong point. I'd once compared some girl I was dating to the stars… only problem was, minutes beforehand I'd said the stars looked dim that night. I was left with a bruised cheek and no girlfriend. Naruto thought it was hilarious. Okay, I had a better idea. "I'll do those for you, Mrs N."

She peered over her shoulder at me. "My, thank you, Gaara." She wiped her hands on some kitchen roll. "I wish my son was more like you." Gaara one, Naruto nil.

I watched her leave the room, quickly scrubbed at the plates and ploinked myself at the kitchen table with knife and fork in hand. Smelled delicious, and it even had honey dripping over the fluffy surface.

Inner Gaara chuckled as I rubbed the eating utensils together before cutting into the pancakey goodness. I could've cried when I tasted the breakfast. I had to remember to sleep over at Naruto's more often, or teach my sister how to cook. Seriously, that woman could burn water. I'm pretty sure she did once.

Why did I suddenly feel a tingle run my spine? I shrugged and popped another piece into my mouth.

"Is that my breakfast?"

I turned slowly, and guess what I did when I saw Naruto standing with a towel around his waist and water dripping down his body. I grinned sheepishly.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I saved enough money for the taxi home, but while sitting in the café with a chocolate shake and bags of clothes, I began to think perhaps I should've put a bit more away. You know, for a rainy day or something. It wasn't as if I had a mass amount of income flying my way or wealthy parents to sponge off.

I sucked the plastic straw dipping into rich chocolate as Naruto and Sasuke argued across the table about who the waitress had been eyeing up. Personally I thought she was staring at Naruto's chocolate cake, but who wouldn't? That thing was the size of a human head and probably contained a normal person's weekly calories.

"You better watch it, moron, I get my shotgun licence next year," Sasuke announce when Naruto had decided to flick a spoonful of cake in his direction. Oh, yes, the Uchihas were known for their involvement in FBI matters. They weren't part of the organisation itself, which made me think there was something more secretive about the family than they led on. Naruto would often speculate, coming up with absurd conclusions such as they were a family of assassins who the government hired for their services.

"I'm shaking in my boots, bastard. I bet you couldn't hit me even if you tried."

"That's one bet I'd gladly take."

I watched the show silently, eyes moving side to side as the onslaught of insults flew across the table, hitting imaginary targets . "Are they usually like this?" I asked quietly, hoping not to draw attention and open myself to fire.

Shikamaru scratched his temples. "This is nothing." He lifted a forkful of salad to his mouth. "Last week we were thrown out a shop. They'd gotten into a fight over who'd seen a leather jacket first and ending up knocking over three mannequins and a shelf." He sighed. "Troublesome."

The strange urge to smile hit me then. It wasn't as if I'd never spoken to the two other occupants of the table before, I just had nothing in common with them. It was easy for   
Naruto, he was one of them. A kid with money who could opt to go shopping or out for the day on a whim and not have to worry about the expense. I'd always had some biased impression that all rich-kids were spoilt, snotty brats - Naruto being the exception. But Sasuke and Shikamaru were just like everyone else I knew. The afternoon was spent laughing at disastrous outfits and chatting about school. The highlight had been when Naruto had gone into the changing room and came out wearing some purple suit with yellow strips and a feather bower and orange sunglasses, looking like the stereotypical figure of some famous artist on a day trip to London.

"So, Gaara," Sasuke said after a staring match with Naruto. I'd sworn I could see electricity bouncing off their eyes. "We're going to my parents' cabin in a few weeks with a couple other people. You in?"

They'd accepted me. "Sure." My stomach fluttered. Since beginning senior school at twelve, Naruto had been the only other person I'd considered a friend. Yeah, I had acquaintances, but this could be a chance to really acquire a close knit group that I'd always been so envious of other people for having.

Since Mum died, Dad became clinically depressed and Kankuro became an addict, I'd closed myself off from people. You can't be neglected or let down when there's no one around to do it, or at least that's what I thought when I was younger. Now I just wanted to have friends, I wanted to be accepted by someone other than my sister and blond friend. It was almost an addiction. One that was soon to become dangerous. The need to belong and be loved.

When I got home that evening, I realized how stupid I'd been to agree on a trip to the cinema that Monday. I didn't want to say no for two reasons. One - I didn't want them to think I was blowing them out. Two - I didn't want Naruto to pick up on the fact I had no money left and offer to pay for me. That always made my blood run cold, it made me feel inadequate in his eyes.

With my new jeans and shirts safely tucked away in my close-to-empty wardrobe alongside my uniform, I walked through the hall with old, nineties' paper plastering the walls. Dad was in bed, and so the house was empty apart from me and Kankuro, who sat on the sofa, popping a toot. He laid back lethargically, head tilting back to blow the long, thick line of smoke out. He offered it to me like he did on so many occasions. And just like all those occasions, I declined with a raised hand and shaking head.

"Where've you been?" he asked slowly in his drug induced state. It was sad, really. My older brother, the once A grade student with a bright future, only held back by socializing with the wrong crowd. I guess I was lucky, in a way, to have become addicted to Naruto's friendship rather than the shit Kankuro contaminated his body with. Because I was. You know, addicted to him in a strange, non-sexual way. His attitude was annoyingly contagious and greatly appreciated at the same time.

"Out," I said. "Shopping."

"Shopping, eh?" He yawned. "With what money?"

"The money I earn from my job. You remember that word, right? Job."

He laughed. It wasn't the 'you've said something funny' laugh. It was his 'I'm stoned out my nut and I've hit the stage I'd find a hairbrush hysterically funny' laugh. That's not even an exaggeration. He once spent a whole hour staring at a hairbrush and laughing at its bristles.

I guess it was his way of numbing the pain. Dad drank. Temari worked herself to the point she'd be too exhausted to care about anything. And I… actually, I didn't know what I did -   
I didn't really do anything out of the ordinary. Just boring old Gaara. Redheaded un-extraordinaire.

"I have a job," Kankuro said eventually when he'd finished finding absolutely nothing hysterically funny.

"A proper job. Not one that's going to get you killed or arrested." Dealing cocaine, even if he didn't do that shit himself (yet), was not a great credential to put on a CV. Neither was   
bumming around getting stone by himself, at that matter.

"Get off my case, you're as bad as Temari, and a hypocrite." He leaned forward to start rolling a joint on the living-room's small, wooden table.

"What's that supposed to mean?" When he snorted and didn't answer, I swiped the clear packet containing grinded leaves.

"Oi."

"I said, what the hell did you mean by that?" I pulled the packet farther out his reach when he grabbed at it.

"Fine, just give it back." I looked at him cautiously, deciphering whether or not this was a bluff. In the end curiosity won out, and I chucked it back into his lap. He dipped his fingers in and sprinkled the green substance into his rollie. He folded it and licked the sticky end. "I owe you a tenner, by the way."

"What?"

Che. Che. He peeked at me while sparking up. "You had two-hundred in your wallet this morning. Don't try to tell me you earned that by cleaning. You had nothing in there the day before." How often did he go through my bloody wallet? "I sense dodgy dealings afoot, my little brother."

"I'm not like you," I said. "I found it." I wasn't too sure why I lied. I could've just said Baki had given it to me - which he had. Perhaps even then, while trying to stay ignorant to the whole situation, I knew there was a real reason why he had that money ready for me. No sane person would hand a sixteen-year-old two big ones for just cleaning a house.

"Whatever. You don't have to tell me how you got it. Just don't get caught if it's illegal."

"I'm not stupid. I wouldn't do anything illegal just for money. It's not worth it."

Kankuro sighed. "That's what I thought once upon a time. It starts out as 'just this once', but the money is too good. It draws you in."

I did need the money. "Whatever." I stood to leave him alone with his addiction. "Just make sure I get my tenner back, or I'll break your toot." That should've been enough   
ammunition to scare him.

My room felt stuffy. I opened the window and leaned out to get some fresh air and have a smoke. The cars below passed on the road, sweeping up discarded litter in the wind of their speed. The money would be useful, I thought as I breathed out. And I wasn't a complete idiot, I knew exactly why he'd had that money ready, and I understood now why he'd been so nervous and edgy. I didn't have any strong objections with homosexual sex. I just didn't think it was something I'd ever consider doing. Maybe one day, while in university, I might've decided to experiment, but relationships were never at the top of my priority list, so I genuinely didn't think about which gender I found more sexually appealing.

I flicked the butt, and before the orange stub and flickering ember had hit the floor, I'd made my mind up.

**Author's Note:**

> Any opinions would be extremely appreciated :) I will always reply if someone takes the time to write me a review.
> 
> Ugawa  
> xx


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